


Pretty Terrible Association

by WowzaPigs



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Humor, PTA au, oh boy, undertale pta au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WowzaPigs/pseuds/WowzaPigs
Summary: Monsters have finally reached the surface, but now there are new challenges to be faced, such as a bunch of bitchy suburban parents sitting around a table in a stuffy classroom. Needless to say, it's going to be a long year.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been awhile since monsters reached the surface. Though it was a rocky beginning, Frisk really did pull through. They’re a great ambassador. After a while, life went on. Monsters were slowly accepted into society, and started to assert themselves as equal to humans. That isn’t to say that there isn’t still discrimination against monsters. There is. You know where it’s really prominent? The PTA.

Toriel shows up on the first day, butterscotch-cinnamon pie in hands and everything. Faces immediately turn sour as she enters the room. They don’t even try to hide it. The room is full of typical suburban white parents. Toriel walks right over to the table they’re all sitting at and sets down her pie. A teacher smiles warmly at her, seemingly unobservant of the glares getting shot at Toriel by the moms. Someone pushes aside an almost untouched plate of lemon squares to make more room for the pie, and a mom huffs in anger.

“Hello! Welcome to the PTA! Thank you for joining us. You must be queen Toriel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”   
Toriel smiles. “Just Toriel will do. It is lovely to meet you too.”  
The woman pulls on a strand of curly, dark brown hair. She’s honestly the only woman in here that doesn’t look like a stereotypical PTA mom.   
“I guess we can start our first meeting, if everyone’s here. First, we should all introduce ourselves. We have some new members this year, so I feel like it would be polite. Who wants to go first?”

The one who looked pissed at the moving of the lemon squares volunteers.   
“I’m Linda, and I do the baking around here!” Her eyes slide over to Toriel as she says the last part, and her smile looks fake. The introductions continue clockwise around the table. By the end, Toriel has become acquaintanced to Linda, Janet, Diana, Susan, David, and Mike. Toriel takes a seat, and the meeting is underway. Toriel’s pie is already mostly gone, much to the annoyance of Linda. Nobody has touched a lemon square since she set her pie down. Toriel is having a hard time concentrating on the meeting with everyone’s eyes on her. Although most of them are enjoying the pie, they’re still glaring at her. Except for the teacher (Naomi, Toriel learns) who’s leading the meeting. She’s talking about monsters.  
“Now that monster children will be attending our school, we have to find a way to involve them in our learning environment. We are already adding “magical studies” to the timetables of students, but we still need more ways monsters can participate in learning.”

Janet raises her hand. “Why should valuable learning time be taken away from my son’s schedule so he can learn about these monsters? Can’t we just separate the classes of normal kids and monster kids?”  
There are some murmurs of assent. Naomi sighs as Toriel narrows her eyes slightly.  
“It may take some adaptation for children and adults alike, but like it or not, monsters are a part of our society now. Learning about them is important.”  
Janet isn’t satisfied. “Okay, but why is my kid forced to learn about this? Why can’t it be an optional class?”  
Naomi looks like she is about to start talking, but Toriel calmly raises her hand. When she speaks, her voice is stern.  
“With all due respect, how come monster children will be forced to learn about human history? That is pretty useless to a monster.” Janet looks pretty mad about this.  
“Because it’s a human school! If monsters don’t want to learn about human history, they can build their own school!”  
Toriel remains calm. “Are you sure it is a human school? Monsters go here now, too.”  
“Humans were here first! We built it.”  
“Only because monsters were trapped underground for centuries by them.”  
Janet has nothing to say to that. She is practically boiling with rage, but she can’t come up with a retort, so she just sits there, slowly turning a similar color to her tacky red lipstick. There is a beat of silence before Naomi resumes talking.  
“Anyways, are there any suggestions for allowing monsters to become better integrated to our school?”  
Toriel raises her hand this time. “We could teach about the human/monster wars in history classes. We could have monsters included in textbooks and worksheets. We could have humans be put together with monsters in group work to allow them to interact more. We could have some physical education activities that involve magic. We could teach about monster anatomy in health classes. We can hire monster teachers.”  
Naomi writes these down on the whiteboard as Toriel lists them out, and she seems to agree. Janet, however, does not.

“So my kid will be forced into working with monsters?”   
Toriel shoots her a look. “Encouraged.”  
“Well, what if he doesn’t want to? Then what? Will he be punished? Will he be forced to work with someone he doesn’t want to?”  
Toriel shrugs. “He will have to interact with monsters at some point. Is it not better that he starts now?”  
Naomi intervenes, this time.   
“These ideas aren’t final. They still have to be passed by the school board, and there will be more time for discussion later. For now, we are only coming up with ideas.”  
Janet nods, but her expression is sour. 

“Anyone else have any ideas?” The parents are silent. Toriel is the only monster there, and it is pretty clear these humans don’t have any idea what they’re doing when it comes to monster issues.  
“Nobody? Alright, then I suppose it’s time to move on.” The other parents seem relieved at this, and the tension in the room goes down a little. But only a little. The rest of the meeting passes relatively uneventfully, but Toriel can tell it’s going to be a long, long year, if this meeting is what’s normal for the PTA.


	2. Bake Sale (a beginning?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay. This fic has been on the back burner, as I have several other projects going and am not very good at time management.

Maybe it’s a coincidence that Toriel falls ill when the next PTA meeting rolls around, or maybe it’s fate. Either way, Asgore is busy with a meeting, which leaves the person that Toriel trusts most out of everyone left: Sans.  
“Do I gotta, Tori? Isn’t there someone else who can do it?”  
“Sans, I told you already, I trust you to do this. It would mean a lot to me if you would go. You can even bring your brother along if you would like.”  
“I’ll do it if it really means that much to you, Tori. Just don’t blame me if I fall asleep.”  
“Alright, I will not. Thank you, Sans. I owe you one.”  
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

The glares have not softened from the last PTA meeting, and when Papyrus marches in with Sans dragging his feet behind him and yawning, it’s possible that they are even more intense. This probably isn’t helped by the questionable scent of the spaghetti Papyrus is holding. He’s improved, but he’s still far from the master chef he claims to be. Setting it down on the table, Papyrus practically drags Sans into a chair. Sans waves weakly at the parents but gets nothing in return.  
“Greetings, humans!” Papyrus practically shouts, overflowing with enthusiasm. “I am Papyrus, and this is my brother, Sans. We are stepping in for Miss Toriel today, because she’s sick.”  
The humans’ expressions don’t change, but Papyrus is clueless to their glares as he sets down his pasta.   
“I, master chef Papyrus, have made some of my exquisite spaghetti to share with my new human friends!”  
“It smells like something died in that pot.” Linda mutters under her breath.   
Sans cuts his eyes slightly at her as he sinks a little farther into his seat. “Hey, you wouldn’t know what you were missing if you pasta-p Pap’s spaghetti. I’ll admit, I have a bit of a penne-chant for his cooking.”   
Linda rolls her eyes. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, you can just leave now.”  
Sans shugs lazily.  
“Well, then you’ll probably be thrilled to have Papyrus on your team. He’s dead serious when it comes to this stuff.”  
Linda shakes her head dismissively.  
“We don’t have time for this. We need to start the meeting.”  
“Sans! You have already off put the humans with your terrible jokes! I can’t take you anywhere!”  
“Uh, technically I took you here, bro.”  
“That’s besides the point!”  
Papyrus ignores Linda giving him the side eye, but when his brother is turned away, Sans is glaring right back at her. Naomi walks to the front of the class.   
“Settle down, everyone. Today we’re organizing a bake sale, as I’m sure you all know. We need help with organization and finding volunteers to bring food.”  
“Sans, did you hear that? We’re doing cooking!” Papyrus whispers loudly to his brother.   
“Yeah bro, I heard.”  
“Oh, I have so many ideas!”  
Naomi continues. “So, does anyone want to help with baking?”  
Papyrus’ hand is the first to shoot up. As soon as it does, almost everyone side-eyes his pasta, which has not been touched by anyone. Papyrus starts babbling, disregarding the stares of the parents.  
“I have so many ideas! I can make spaghetti, spaghetti bagels, spaghetti quiche, hot dogs (with spaghetti), spaghetti on toast, and a manner of other baked goods for your lovely bake sale. Fear not, humans! All your pasta needs will be fulfilled!”  
Linda glares.  
“I think we’ll be fine,” she says nastily.  
“Oh, yes! You will be more than fine! I’ll make sure of it!”  
“Also, spaghetti isn’t a baked good,” says Mike offhandedly. Papyrus narrows his eyes.  
“Nonsense! Anything can be baked if you try hard enough!”  
“Really, though. Anyone who actually knows how to bake?” Says Diane. Naomi, sensing tension, steps in.  
“Hey, that pie from the last meeting was really good! Maybe you could get Toriel to bake one for the bake sale?”  
“I can do that.” Sans says, yawning.   
“And I’ll bring my lemon squares.” Linda says.  
“Anyone else?” Naomi asks. There’s a beat. Nobody volunteers.  
“Alright, so I’ll put down Toriel, Linda, and, uh, Papyrus. Will someone make flyers to hang around the school?”  
David looks up “I can do that. My daughter April loves art. We can make them together.” He smiles softly. Naomi nods.   
“Alright. The bake sale will happen on the twenty-second, after school. I’ll email you the details. And I’ll also email everyone who volunteered to help bake. Thank you all.”  
The meeting ends, and the brothers walk out, Papyrus grinning to himself.  
“Sans! You will help me bake for the bake sale!”  
“Kay, bro.”  
“We will make the best dang spaghetti those children have ever tasted, mark my words.”


	3. Bake Sale (part 1)

“Frisk.”  
“What is it, Flowey?”  
“Friiiiiisk.”  
“I’m right here.”  
“Don’t make me go.”  
Frisk picks up Flowey’s pot.  
“Come on. You’re my emotional support.”  
“I’m gonna scare away your customers.”  
“Then I’ll get more leftovers.” They quip, walking towards Toriel’s waiting car, Flowey in hand.  
“It would be nice if you could make some friends.” They add.  
Flowey just stares sullenly out the window. The silence stretches on, until they arrive.  
“Frisk, dear, will you help me unload the pies?”  
Toriel… overbaked. She baked around five pies, caught up in a haze of flour and hubris. At least everyone seemed to like it, even if they didn’t like her. A lot of humans found it hard to get over their initial fear of monsters. The bake sale had come, and several stalls had been set up. One for Toriel, one for Papyrus (reluctantly), and one for Linda. Sans is nearby, selling hotdogs, Frisk notices, although he hadn’t actually signed up for the bake sale. Maybe he had a hard time passing his, uh, “vegan hot dogs” off as an actual food item. To be fair, monster food works a little differently, so it’s not like the food would even pass through your body. It just turns to energy right away. They got Frisk though hotland, at least. Frisk sets Flowey down on their stall and goes to help Toriel with the pies. As they carry them, a voice speaks up from within their head, making their soul buzz strangely.  
“Something’s bothering him.”  
Frisk regards Chara as they set the pies down. Frisk sometimes had trouble speaking, especially around strangers, which is why they had learned sign language. As they had gotten older, they had gotten slightly better at talking when they needed to, yet there were still times when words just wouldn’t come. More often than not, they used it as a discreet way of communicating with Chara when others were around.  
“You think so?” They sign, trying not to let their concern show.  
“Yeah, he’ll usually talk to you at least, but today he just seems closed off.”  
Frisk’s brow furrows.  
“I really thought he was doing well recently. Maybe I should talk to him.” They finish signing, and Chara is quiet in their head.  
“Flowey.”  
He turns his head to face them.  
“How are you doing?”  
Flowey bobs his stem in that way of his, that Frisk has come to interpret as a shrug. Frisk holds both hands in front of them, fingers towards Flowey. They had developed a system. Flowey had often described his emotions as “ranging from numb to almost-happy.” Like, the faint feeling that happiness should be there. The odd feeling of displacement that comes with being soulless. Flowey could display a range of emotions, but often they all stemmed from numbness. Anger and lashing out, despair, fear; they were there, but it felt like they were being smothered by a grey could of numbness, blocking out any hope of genuine connection. Some days he almost felt happy. Others he just felt dullness eating away at his insides like a virus. Frisk often asked him to rate how he felt on a scale of one to ten. One being completely numb, ten being feeling close to genuine happiness. Today, he would rate this at about a four. He says as much to Frisk, and they frown ever-so-slightly. Recently he had been better, it was a distressing inevitability to see him plummet again. They squeeze the golden necklace they’re wearing, a silent reminder to Flowey of the promise that they’d made: I will find a way to bring you back. Flowey looks away. Frisk moves behind the bake sale table. The table is stacked so high with pies that their head barely exceeds the top. It doesn’t help that they’re so small for their age. They’d be the smallest in their class if monster’s sizes weren’t so diverse. Frisk was manning the stand, though Toriel had baked the pies. They were excited to participate in the school community. Although most human students at their school are more accepting of monsters than their parents, most of them still held onto fear of the monsters. Mostly Frisk was left alone by humans, but it was hard for them to make friends. They couldn’t complain though, they were heralded as a hero and “angel” by monsters (although that prophecy was vague, and could apply to three different people, and Frisk liked to give credit where it was due to their best friends).   
The stall is set up, and students are starting to arrive, their pockets full and their stomachs empty. Frisk eyes the pies, guiltily hoping most students stay at home. They really want those leftovers. Flowey’s quiet demeanor shifts as soon as others are around. Frisk is sure he’s masking his sadness, but they decide to take it as a good sign. At least he trusts them enough to let his guard down when others aren’t present.  
“Hey, come buy pie made by idiots, for idiots, of idiots!”  
“Flowey, you helped make this pie.” Frisk says with a tolerant smile.  
“I’m the biggest idiot for agreeing to do this with you.”   
“And… of idiots?”  
Flowey cracks a small sarcastic smile back.  
“You know I was quoting Muffet.”  
“Still doesn’t make sense.” Frisk says with a shrug.  
A group of people approach the stand. Word had gotten around the school about Toriel’s legendary baking after Frisk shared some of their lunch with various students. Then Toriel said they weren’t allowed to share their lunch anymore, so they stopped. But it seemed that Frisk’s stall was drawing more customers than any other, especially given that nobody else wanted to sign up for the bake sale besides Linda and Papyrus. Frisk smiles. They’re glad all their hard work has paid off. Not only did they help their mom with the baking, they also drew and colored in the banner hanging above the stall themselves. It took about an hour, but they were proud of their hard work.   
“Uhh, can we get some pie?” A kid asks, apparently speaking for all three of the kids who had approached.  
“One slice each?” Frisk asks, and he nods.  
Frisk cuts the slices evenly and even applies whipped cream to the pie. They had purchased the whipped cream last minute from a convenience store. Guess you can’t win them all.  
“That’ll be twelve dollars.” They say brightly.  
And so the first sale is made.


End file.
